


Fancy

by bailong05



Category: Xiaolin Showdown (Cartoon)
Genre: Emotional Chase, F/M, Forced Prostitution, Hurt/Comfort, Songfic, fem!Jack
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-28
Updated: 2019-02-28
Packaged: 2019-11-07 01:36:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,743
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17951147
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bailong05/pseuds/bailong05
Summary: On the way home from a very rare business trip into the city, Chase comes across a prostitute--a prostitute he knows the face of, even if it looked very different from the last time he'd seen it. Jack... was just trying to survive.Inspired by the song Fancy by Reba McEntire. NOT AN AU.





	Fancy

It was rare that Chase left his citadel for anything other than the pursuit of a rare artifact that was potentially useful to him or to challenge a warrior he deemed suitable to join his ranks of jungle cats, but occasionally he did have to venture back into the mortal world—mostly on business ventures that required his presence rather than the warrior he normally sent as a stand-in. The many businesses he held ownership of or stock in were all to fund his admittedly lavish lifestyle. Not one was even a touch illegal and as such they were all on the supposedly “good” side of town.

He preferred it that way. While the “good” side of town was not nearly as squeaky clean as it liked to purport itself, the underhanded and shady deals were much more well-hidden. Anyone with half a brain knew he was Heylin—and therefore evil—but it was much harder to pin things on him when his businesses were clean. He even preferred making business deals with good, honest men, not only because there was less of a chance of the hassle of being double-crossed but also because he had less of a chance of being tied even remotely to dirty dealings. He’d seen many crime lords and Heylin wannabes fall thanks to their own carelessness and indiscretion (and maybe occasionally his own interference whenever it suited his purposes), he wasn’t about to fall with them. Every move he made was calculated to bring the least amount of risk for the most amount of profit to him.

So—naturally—when a flash of red caught his eye out the window of his car and he turned his head to see a prostitute leaning against the wall of a building nearby he curled his lip. She wasn’t completely out in the open, instead standing just inside a narrow alley between the building she was leaning against and the building next to it, but she was clearly looking for a higher class of clientele than she would find in the red light district where she belonged. Probably seeking a higher profit, which he could not blame her for, but she was still somewhere she shouldn’t be.

It was not his business—he certainly wouldn’t be one of her clients—and he dismissed her, beginning to turn away before she shifted, stepping halfway out of the alley and out of the shadows.

“Stop the car.”

His chauffeur for the day, one of his younger warriors he was all too happy to pass the duty of driving on to—he could drive, he just didn’t like to—complied immediately. Chase stepped out of his car, cloaking himself with magic before striding over to the girl. She saw him coming and froze, her eyes widening briefly as she recognized him. She looked away as he approached, and when she turned back he saw she’d managed to learn how to control her facial expressions a lot better since the last time he’d seen her.

“What the hell are you doing Spicer?” he bit out, watching her fake, flirty smile break.

“How did you know?”

He gave an impatient sigh.

“I have always known you are a woman,” he said flatly, “Now answer my question.”

Her red eyes widened again, but then her expression hardened.

“What do you care?” she muttered. He narrowed his eyes on her.

“I will not be a known associate of someone who has lowered themselves to such depths,” he said, his tone even more frigid than the cold winter air. For the first time he noticed that Jack wore very little to protect herself from the elements—a skin-tight red dress with a very low neckline and a very high hemline, a thin black jacket that did more for looks than for warmth, and a pair of towering heels he honestly would have never expected her to know how to stand in, much less walk in. Her fingers were beginning to turn blue, and he had a suspicion that under the ridiculous amount of makeup she’d slathered on her face her lips were, too.

“I guess you’d better get back in your car and drive away, then,” she snapped—much to his surprise. Jack Spicer had never in all the time he’d known her snapped at him.

“Spicer—”

“Fuck off, Chase.”

He was taken aback again, unable to respond as she began to walk away. Her steps were surprisingly graceful—until her very thin stiletto found a crack in the sidewalk just big enough for it to slip into. Her ankle twisted as she fell, making her cry out. He reacted before he could think, catching her before she hit the ground and lifting her into his arms. She stared at him.

“Can you walk?”

“What?”

He sighed impatiently—again.

“Your ankle, Spicer.”

“Oh.”

She blinked, shifting her gaze away from him to look down at her ankle.

“I, uh… I don’t know. I can’t really feel it.”

He muttered under his breath. Of course she couldn’t feel it; she would be lucky if it wasn’t frostbitten by now. He scowled, carrying her over to his car.

“I thought you didn’t want to be associated with me,” she said when he set her down in the backseat. He motioned her to scoot over, sliding in next to her.

“I cloaked us,” he said, “Anyone who saw us saw a nondescript man having an argument with his nondescript wife.”

“Of course.”

There was a bitter note in her voice. He glanced at her, but didn’t comment.

“Let me see your ankle.”

“What?”

“Do you have a hearing problem, Spicer? Let me see your ankle.”

She flushed, but lifted her foot. He grasped it gently, forcing her to turn so he could examine it. It was like holding a block of ice.

“What happened?” he asked quietly. It was becoming more and more apparent to him that whatever the reason she had for selling her body on the side of the road, it was hardly what she wanted to do.

“I don’t have to answer that question.”

He looked up at her, but she had turned her face away. He frowned again, but didn’t try to press her. Obviously trying to force her to tell him wasn’t working.

“The last time I saw your feet this bare you were sticking them in my face,” he said instead, looking back down at the foot in his hand. He couldn’t tell if she’d seriously injured it or not.

She turned sharply, watching him warily.

“Actually, the last time you saw my feet bare was when you had your jungle cat forcibly remove me from my bath and deliver me—naked, I might remind you—to your citadel.”

She paused a moment, then added, “Is that when you figured out I was a girl?”

He shook his head.

“I knew you were a girl nearly from the beginning,” he informed her, “I can smell when you bleed.”

Blood rushed to her face and she squeaked. He found himself relieved that some things hadn’t changed.

“I confess I had forgotten you weren’t clothed for that incident,” he said, “I was more concerned with the spiders, if I am honest.”

She snorted. Silence settled over them as he decided to change his tactics. Jack had never been one to remain quiet for long, perhaps that had also not changed. He was quickly proved right.

“Why are you doing this?” she asked after only a moment, “Actually, what are you even doing? You’re obviously not going to pay for my services tonight… are you?”

Her eyes dropped to her foot, which he belatedly realized he still held. He let go, allowing her to turn back to the front.

“No,” he confirmed, “I’m not.”

“Then what are you doing and why are you doing it?”

Two very good questions, neither of which he knew how to answer. What was he doing? And… why?

“I’m taking you back to my citadel for tonight, where you will spend a nice, comfortable night—alone—in a guest room. We will discuss what will happen next in the morning.”

“That doesn’t tell me why.”

Damn. He had been hoping she wouldn’t notice, but Jack had always been a little more observant than most had given her credit for. Including him.

“I don’t like the thought of you selling yourself,” he settled for finally, because it was true. As soon as he’d realized who she was something had slid into his stomach, twisting it viciously, and it had yet to let up.

“Why?”

“I… I don’t know.”

She eyed him and he could tell she wasn’t convinced, but she left it at that. For the rest of the ride back to the citadel she remained quiet, staring out the window. Maybe that had changed, after all.

He had to help her walk when they finally made it to his home. Her feet had been so cold and numb that the warmth of his vehicle, once it had finally begun to seep in, visibly hurt her. She cried involuntary tears as she tried to walk, even with his help, and the thing twisting his stomach forced him to pick her up once more. He hated tears.

He hated them on her cheeks.

He pushed that thought away, not wanting to examine it too closely, and carried her straight to the closest bathroom. He set her down gently on the side of the tub.

“I don’t care if you remain fully clothed,” he said when she made a noise of protest, catching her gaze and holding it, “but you need to warm up and this is the fastest way.”

“Why do you care?”

She was still crying, ruby eyes glistening as they searched his gaze—forcing him to come to terms with something he’d been avoiding for a long time.

“Because I… Because I do.”

Fuck, he was a coward. She didn’t understand, and he couldn’t bring himself to explain. He leaned past her, turning on the water—making very sure to keep it lukewarm. Her tears slowed gradually.

“These are the only clothes I have,” she whispered when he deemed the tub full enough and turned to lift her into it. He paused.

“I’ll let you borrow some of mine,” he said softly. She looked up at him, and nodded. He quickly lifted her once more, kneeling next to the tub as he lowered her into it. She screamed as the water enveloped her legs, clutching him as it warmed her painfully. He could feel her fingers digging into his back through his suit, likely wrinkling it, but he didn’t care. He stayed with her, holding her through the pain.

“It’s okay,” she panted finally, loosening her hold, “I’m okay.”

He pulled back slightly, meeting her gaze to assess for himself how true that was. She gave him a small nod, but she hadn’t submerged her upper body yet and he knew it would be just as painful. He reached out, unable to stop himself from caressing her cheek lightly. Her breath caught.

“Chase…?”

He stilled, forcing himself to drop his hand. He curled his fingers around the side of the tub, taking a deep breath. He had to leave, before he did something he wouldn’t regret.

“I-I apologize,” he said, ripping himself away from her and nearly sprinting out of the bathroom—leaving her very confused behind him. He closed the door, separating himself firmly from her, and pressed his forehead against it. The wood was cool against his hot skin, but he only had a fraction of time to feel relief as Jack’s whimpers and cries as she warmed herself fully reached his ears. He gripped the doorknob tightly.

He shouldn’t feel like this. Not this intensely. Not for her.

But he did.

He pushed himself away from the door, forcing himself to walk away from the girl on the other side. She needed clothes. He could have just teleported himself to his room to retrieve them, but he didn’t. He needed to take the time to trek across his citadel and back. He needed to remind himself of every reason he shouldn’t take Jack Spicer to his bed.

It was funny, he mused, but he should be disgusted by how he’d found her, nearly two years after she’d suddenly disappeared from his life. With anyone else he would be, but not her. It wasn’t her choice. He could see it all over her face.

He needed to figure out what had happened. He needed to know who was responsible for this. He needed to rip them apart, and present their bloody, still-beating heart to her as a gift.

He accidentally ripped the shirt he’d pulled out for her, his nails elongating into wicked sharp claws without his permission. He tossed it away, trying and failing to will his claws back into nails.

“My Lord.”

He didn’t have to turn to know which of his warriors had spoken softly from the doorway. Jingyi wasn’t the first warrior he’d bested in combat after Turning, but he was one of the first and the one who had survived the longest. He pushed the pang that rose in him at the thought of warriors long gone down and motioned Jingyi in, gesturing at his wardrobe. The man—older than Chase himself was—entered, moving with silent steps to his wardrobe and quietly selecting suitable clothing for Jack.

He wasn’t surprised he knew what was going on; his young chauffeur had probably told him as soon as they’d arrived. Jingyi was his general for a reason; he’d helped every one of his current warriors adapt and cope with their new lifestyle, something Chase… couldn’t do. Many of his warriors, he knew, weren’t loyal to him, but they were all loyal to Jingyi and Jingyi was—for some unfathomable reason—loyal to him.

“What do I do?” he asked, his stomach twisting again as he sat heavily on the side of his bed. This wasn’t a warrior he could defeat in combat. This was…

This was Jack.

“Have you told her?”

He glanced up, meeting Jingyi’s dark gaze. He’d bested the man in combat a long, long time ago, but to this day he didn’t have nearly as much control of his thoughts and feelings as he did. No one was ever quite sure what exactly the man was truly thinking or feeling, but Chase knew that if it wasn’t for him he would have never survived this long.

“I don’t know how,” he whispered, gripping his arm for lack of anything else to hold onto. His skin healed easier than it would be to replace his sheets and mattress. He hardly even noticed the pain.

Jingyi paused, setting the clothing for Jack aside. He gently pried Chase’s hand out of his arm, quickly and efficiently cleaning up the blood that spilled from the puncture wounds and bandaging them. Chase let him, slumping forward.

“She deserves better than me.”

“Undoubtedly, yes,” Jingyi said simply. He wasn’t even surprised or upset by it, either. It was just another fact.

A hand settled on his shoulder, giving it a light squeeze. Chase wondered if Jingyi knew just how much he meant to him. He couldn’t voice that, either.

“My Lord,” he said softly, gently, “She deserves a man who loves her—and tells her so. When you are able to tell her, you will be worthy of her.”

He turned his face away, trying to hide the moisture he hated growing in his eyes.

“Even if I could tell her, I still wouldn’t be worthy of her. Or do you not remember all of our previous interactions?”

“The ones in which you insulted and belittled her?”

He flinched, but nodded. Jingyi sighed, seating himself next to him. He resisted the temptation to lean into him.

“Just because you made wrong choices in the past doesn’t mean you can’t make right choices now.”

He sighed, wishing it were truly that simple—but if Jingyi thought he could, then he would try.

“Jingyi, I…” he began, his breath quickening as the thing twisting his stomach clawed up into his chest, reaching into his throat and clamping around it. The hand on his shoulder moved, calloused fingers gently cupping the back of his head and pulling him into the warrior next to him.

“I know,” the older man whispered, holding him in place, “I love you, too… my son.”

He choked, pressing his face into Jingyi’s shoulder.

“I wish I had known you before,” he confessed, “I wish I had lost to you.”

Jingyi, the man he did indeed see as a father-figure despite how laughable it was that an evil warlord even needed a father-figure—much less one that was supposed to be his slave—held him a moment longer, then gently pushed him back to look him in the eye. He didn’t bother trying to hide his tears this time.

“You would have never met her if either of those things had happened, My Lord. Your happiness is what is most important to me. I am content with the way things are.”

He wasn’t, but he didn’t fight him on it. He hated fighting with him—which had happened before, though it was rare.

He was too selfish to let him go, anyway.

“Go to her. I will be here when you return.”

He nodded, taking a deep breath as the hand around his throat loosened. Jingyi would be here. Even when Jack laughed at him and turned him away—as she should—Jingy would still be here. He would always be here.

“I love you,” he blurted, trying to get the words out before the hand tightened around his throat again. Jingyi gave him a rare smile—rarer than his own—but didn’t reply. He didn’t have to.

He took a few more minutes to calm down, to make himself presentable once more—to reattach the mask everyone but Jingyi thought was his true self—then gathered the clothing Jingyi had chosen for Jack in his now claw-free hands. He teleported back, reappearing in the hall outside the closed bathroom door and knocking on it immediately to give himself as little time to rethink what he was going to do as possible. Jack’s voice filtered through the door, giving him permission to enter.

She looked better, he noted immediately, sweeping his gaze over her as she rested in the tub, still in her dress and jacket (the heels had been taken off and tossed aside as he’d been filling the tub, as had the small purse she had carried with her). Steam was rising faintly from the water; she must have added more hot water to the tub.

“Here are your clothes,” he said, setting them on a shelf not far from the tub. “Jack, I—”

“What happened to your arm?”

Her eyes were fixed on the bandage on his arm. He’d honestly forgotten about it, despite the fact that JIngyi had ripped the sleeve of his jacket—already in tatters—off to tend to it. He stopped, uncertain of what to tell her. That despite what he wanted people to believe he was an emotional basket case?

“It… doesn’t matter,” he said finally. She gave him a strange look.

“Oookaaaayyy,” she said, drawing the word out. He opened his mouth—tell her, just tell her—but she’d neatly and completely derailed him and he lost what little courage he had.

“I… I’ll leave you to get dressed.”

He turned away, damning himself for his cowardice. Jingyi would be disappointed in him when he found out.

The knowledge made the back of his eyes sting, but he forced the tears down. Jack really would laugh at him if she knew.

“Chase…”

He stopped at the hesitant call, not turning back around. He hadn’t completely regained control himself yet.

“I think I need help,” she said, still hesitant, “My ankle…”

Ah. Of course. She had twisted it pretty badly, he would have been surprised if it wasn’t injured. He turned back around, pushing his emotions away as he focused on her hurt ankle. Two steps had him next to the tub and he knelt on the mat next to it, reaching into the now-hot water to place his hands on her slim waist. He lifted her with ease as he stood again, wondering if she’d always been that light. He hadn’t even thought about it before, but now he found himself worrying even more. What had happened to her?

He let her lean against him when he set her back down, ignoring the water soaking into his already ruined suit. She wrapped an arm around his neck for balance. He wrapped one around her waist, unable to resist spreading his fingers out, touching as much of her as he could. She sucked in a sharp breath. He jerked his hand away.

“Sorry,” he whispered, not looking at her. The thing in his stomach was back.

“Chase… Are you—Do you… want me to…?”

He froze as her free hand slid across his stomach, heading for the clasp of his pants. He caught it before it made it there, feeling sick.

“No,” he rasped out, his hands beginning to shake, “No, Jack. No.”

He couldn’t think beyond that word. He sank to his knees, careful to help her maintain her balance even as he fought to keep from getting sick. She thought…

“I’m sorry.”

He choked on the apology, trying desperately to force the words from his throat. Even if he was too much of a coward to tell her how he felt, he had to tell her this.

“I’m sorry you think—you th-think—I never meant—I won’t force you to—”

“Chase.”

Somehow she had managed to kneel next to him, slipping her hand from his and wrapping her arms around him. He clutched at her.

“You make me feel so much,” he whispered, “I—It scares me. I don’t know what to do with these feelings, Jack, but I will never force you to…”

He trailed off, shying away from the thought. He couldn’t think about her in his bed right now.

“I know you won’t force me,” she said softly, her hands caressing his hair lightly. He shuddered, leaning into her.

“You asked me why I care,” he said, his voice a little stronger as his stomach began to settle. She didn’t think he would rape her.

“The answer is I don’t know. But I do care. I do care.”

He still couldn’t tell her how much, nor could he look at her, but she knew now. She hummed quietly, her hand still caressing his hair.

“I’m beginning to realize that.”

He closed his eyes, trying to pull himself back together.

“I… I should go,” he said, “I will send one of my female warriors to help you.”

He started to disentangle himself from her, but she tightened her hold.

“Stay.”

He took a deep breath.

“I will have to help you unclothe yourself.”

“I know.”

“But—”

She moved, leaning forward to press her lips to his temple. He cut off, his eyes widening.

“I trust you, Chase.”

He stared at her, not comprehending what she had just said. She trusted him? How could she trust him, after everything he’d done to her?

She just smiled and gave him another gentle kiss—this one on the lips. His breath left him and he couldn’t stop the shaky moan that rose in his throat. How often had he thought about those lips on his? He felt her mouth curve against him, her hand tangling in his hair, but she kept the kiss light—almost chaste.

Which was good, because he didn’t want it to go any further right now. There was still too much that needed to be said.

He pulled back, for the first time managing to meet her gaze, and lifted his hand to softly caress her cheek. He rubbed his thumb just under her eye, where the black claw mark had been the last time he’d seen her. He never thought he’d miss the ridiculous thing.

“You don’t look like you,” he said, the words slipping out, but to his surprise he didn’t care that they had. It was true.

“I don’t like it.”

She blinked, obviously surprised.

“You… don’t?” she asked, “but…”

She trailed off when he shook his head.

“You don’t look comfortable,” he said softly, “or happy. You look miserable. I don’t like that.”

She blinked again.

“Oh.”

She didn’t seem to know what to say to that.

“Can I ask a favor?” she asked instead, “I, uh… It’s been awhile since I’ve had an actual bath, so…”

It was his turn to blink in surprise.

“Of course,” he said, “Would you like me to leave?”

She shook her head.

“I’d feel better if you were in here, actually,” she confessed a little shyly, “My ankle’s messed up and if there’s a way to injure myself sitting in a bathtub, I’ll find it.”

For some reason, the wry statement made him laugh.

“I don’t doubt it,” he teased, watching as she grinned at him. Now she looked more like the Jack Spicer he knew and loved.

“I will help you get undressed,” he decided, glancing over her again. He was beginning to feel a little more stable.

“But I will sit with my back to the tub while you bathe.”

He half-expected her to tell him it wasn’t necessary, but to his relief she just gave him what he’d finally found out were called finger guns after years of knowing her and said, “It’s a plan.”

He was glad. It was definitely necessary.

He was very careful to keep his hands to himself as he helped her undress, touching her only when he had to. Fortunately she could mostly do it herself, just needing him for balance when she took off her underwear—which she did first. Then she sat on the side of the tub while he drained the water and refilled it.

He gave her a sideways glance as he did, trying to assess how hot the water needed to be—and caught her as she was peeling the skin tight and now waterlogged dress off. He flushed and looked quickly away. The movement must have caught her eye because he could sense her turn to look at him.

“Is everything okay?” she asked. He kept his gaze on the water filling the tub, trying not to think about the lacy bra she was wearing.

“I… uh…”

He coughed, shifting uncomfortably. He caught sight of a bottle of bubble bath on the shelf next to him and promptly dumped a very generous amount in the bathtub. He had no idea whose bubble bath it was—it was certainly not his—and he didn’t care.

“How hot do you want the water?” he managed to ask as the bubble bath began to foam up. He could feel her gaze on him.

“I’m warm now,” she said slowly, “So I would like it to be very hot. You’re really uncomfortable about this, aren’t you?”

She was surprised by that. He released a breath.

“I told you,” he said, still not looking at her, "You make me feel a lot of things I am not used to. Things that scare me. Things that terrify me.”

He stopped, trying to find the words that would make her understand.

“If all I felt for you was lust, I would have already bedded you and been done with it—provided you were willing, of course.”

He glanced at her from the corner of his eye. She looked… stunned.

“But it’s not?”

“No. It is not.”

There was a small pause, the thing twisting his stomach again as he waited for her to process that.

“What do you feel for me?”

He supposed he should have expected that question. He closed his eyes.

“I…”

For the second time that day, his fingers curled around the edge of the tub. Why was he such a fucking coward? Why couldn’t he just fucking say it?

“Chase… you know I love you, right?”

He snapped his head around, staring at the girl next to him. She had—thankfully—draped her ruined dress across her lap, covering her modesty in that area at least, but she was still just wearing a barely there, lacy black bra. He could feel the heat creeping up into his face again and resolutely kept his gaze on her face.

“I don’t understand,” he said, “How could you trust me? How could you love me?”

It was her turn to stare at him.

“You truly have no idea, do you?”

He shook his head, his gaze accidentally dropping down to the droplet of water sliding between her breasts. It took him longer than it should have to rip his gaze away from that drop.

“Chase, you’ve been my idol since before we even met. You were always so… awesome. You’re the entire reason why I even wanted to be an “evil genius.” All I’ve ever wanted since the day we met was for you to just look at me. To notice me.”

"And since almost the moment we met I’ve been pushing you away,” he pointed out, “Don’t think I don’t know exactly how I have treated you, Jack.”

She was quiet a moment.

“Something tells me you had your reasons,” she said finally. He gave a short, hollow laugh.

“You were a child,” he confirmed, “and I had no business looking at a child that way. I am not a rapist, Jack—and I hope to whatever deity that might still give my pathetic prayers a chance that I’m not a pedophile. I don’t even know how old you are now.”

“I’m twenty, for the record, and considering you did push me away and didn’t act on your thoughts even when all I had on was a towel, I think it’s a pretty safe bet you’re not a pedophile.”

He blew out a breath. Twenty. Closer to the age he was when he’d first drank the Lao Mang Lone, only a year or two younger than his body was physically—but she’d still been fifteen when they’d first met. Not quite as young as he’d feared, but not nearly old enough for him to be comfortable with the thoughts and desires that had run through his head back then—or now, really. He’d thought she was closer to sixteen or seventeen; to know she was, in fact, a legal adult lifted an enormous weight off his chest.

“Everything about how I feel for you makes me uncomfortable,” he said, “You were driving me crazy, and I nearly decided I didn’t care how young you were… and then you disappeared.”

Water and bubbles slopping over the side of the tub prevented Jack from responding immediately. She was the first one to react, reaching across him to turn off the tap. It brought her very, very close to him, making her state of undress even harder to ignore. But he did. It took every ounce of self-control he possessed, but he had an honor code and he refused to let it go.

“Will you help me in?” she whispered, glancing up at him. He nodded. She slipped her arm around his neck while he put one hand in the middle of her back and slid the other under her knees, picking her up and settling her gently back in the tub. Her dress floated on top of the water and he quickly let go and turned away.

“I think I need some air,” he said as he listened to her struggle to take her bra off, “Will you be okay for a few minutes?”

She swore under her breath at her bra.

“Yeah, go on. I won’t try to get up without you.”

He nodded, leaving the bathroom once more—but this time he was… okay. Mostly. There were still things they needed to discuss, but he wasn’t panicking. Just trying to maintain control over himself.

He only stayed away for a few minutes now, just long enough to regain his composure. When he re-entered the bathroom Jack’s dress and bra were tossed haphazardly on the floor, her modesty protected by the frankly absurd amount of bubbles in the water. She was playing with them, cupping them in her hands and blowing them into the air. He laughed quietly. She grinned at him.

“I used to do this all the time as a kid,” she said, blowing more bubbles out of her hands. He smiled, leaning against the wall to watch her.

“I bet you did.”

She played with the bubbles for a little longer, then sighed, dropping her hands in the water.

“I guess I owe you an explanation, huh?”

“You owe me nothing, Jack. You may explain, or you may choose not to. The only expectation I have is what you’re going to do in the morning. I…”

He paused, unable to keep from curling his lip just a little.

“I do not like the thought of you returning to your current… lifestyle… but if you insist, I will not stop you.”

She was quiet, looking down at the bubbles slowly beginning to dissipate.

“My parents got a divorce,” she said suddenly. He tilted his head, uncertain of what relevance that had to anything, but nodded.

“I am aware,” he informed her, “I have not personally done any business with your father, but he ran in the same circles as many of my business partners.”

He’d never done business with the man because he was too dishonest. He’d seen the collapse of something in Jack’s father’s life coming from a mile away and was only mildly surprised that it had been his marriage that went first. He knew for a fact that the man had been one misstep away from being arrested.

Which, in all honesty, was probably why he’d taken up with a mistress and gotten the hell out of China to begin with.

“Yeah, well he cut Mom and I off when he left,” Jack said bitterly, “Left us here with nothing. Mom scraped up enough to buy me that, dolled me up, and took me to one of Dad’s old business partners.”

She pointed at the dress and heels, and his eyes widened. Her mother was responsible for this?

“She did not.”

“She did. Pimped me to the dude, who paid her directly. I don’t even know how much he paid her for me, I never saw so much as a fucking jiao. She did tell me he’d paid a pretty penny for my virginity. And then she offered me as a maid to his wife, who knew full well her husband was paying to bang me. We lived with them, too—until Mom got enough out of them to buy herself a one-way ticket to the States. Then they decided they didn’t have to pay me anymore.”

She didn’t give names, but that was no matter. Chase was certain that once her mother—no, the woman who gave birth to her, she didn’t deserve the title of mother—was tracked down the bitch would sing their fucking names to him.

“I wasn’t going to be their literal slave,” Jack continued, quite unaware of what he was thinking, “so I split. But I had nothing, and I can’t even speak Chinese, so I…”

She trailed off, and now she was the one who looked close to tears.

“Did what you had to to survive,” he said, crossing the room to kneel next to the tub again and take her hands in his.

“I won’t ask why you didn’t come to me, I know very well why. But I promise you, I will help you. Whatever it is you wish to do, wherever you wish to go, I will help you. If you want to leave—”

“I don’t.”

The whisper cut him off and he stopped, lost for words. She gave him a shy glance.

“I want to stay with you,” she said, “If… If you’re okay with that.”

“I—Of course I am. I just didn’t expect—”

He stopped, then nodded.

“Okay,” he said, “You will stay with me for as long as you wish. We will figure out the details of what exactly that means later. For now I believe it is past time you finish your bath.”

She nodded, her tears spilling over onto her cheeks. Whatever makeup she’d used, it was obviously high-quality because the warm, soapy water of the bath had not made it run—and neither had her tears. But after she was finished with her bath and he’d helped her into her borrowed clothes she dug into her purse and pulled out makeup remover, finally wiping off the face that wasn’t her. He liked her so much better without her face made up; she actually looked like Jack.

It wasn’t until after he’d carried her into the dining room, where someone—most likely Jingyi—had the foresight to have a meal waiting on them, that she spoke again.

“Chase… There’s something else I need to tell you.”

He turned to her, realizing immediately that although they had been eating for ten minutes she had hardly touched anything in her bowl, which had very little in it to begin with. He’d served her only a small portion of food, mindful of how little her stomach would be likely to hold after so long without.

“What is it?”

“I, um… My first—well, I guess I can’t call him my client, can I, since he wasn’t paying me—”

“Jack.”

She fell silent, watching him nervously. He touched her hand, trying to put her at ease again.

“It’s alright,” he said softly, “You can tell me.”

She dropped her gaze away from him.

“I got pregnant.”

The quiet statement took him aback. He swept his gaze over her again, searching for signs of a child growing within her.

“You’re…” he began, but she shook her head.

“I was. I didn’t find out until after I left the family, but I… I decided to keep her. I didn’t have the money to go to a hospital and abort her, anyway, or even have a way to communicate with anyone to do it under the rug. I should have given her up, I know, but she…”

She trailed off, looking conflicted, then dropped her gaze.

“I know you probably don’t want me to stay anymore, but—”

“We will go get her.”

Her eyes widened.

“Are—Are you sure?”

“Of course I’m sure. She is your child, regardless of the circumstances of her birth. I will not deny you her, nor her a home. You are both welcome to stay here.”

Her face crumpled and before he could comprehend what she was doing he found his arms full as she cried into his chest. He caught her on instinct, blinking, but then softened.

“Jack,” he whispered, the words that had once refused to be said now flowing freely from him, “I love you. I love you far too much not to accept your child. She is yours—and as far as I’m concerned she has no father.”

She looked up at him, red eyes shining.

“Maybe…” she began hesitantly, “Maybe you can be her father. If you want.”

“Me?” he asked, startled. She nodded.

“I think you would make a great father,” she said, then snapped her mouth shut. He… didn’t know what to say.

He was pretty sure he was not father material.

“I assume she is being watched by someone,” he said instead. She sniffled, but nodded again.

“We will go get her after you eat, then.”

He gave her this stipulation because he was concerned—concerned about her lack of weight and the fact that she hadn’t eaten but a couple of bites—and expected her to return to her seat next to him to fulfill it. He did not expect her to turn herself around in his lap and pull her bowl toward her, foregoing her own seat entirely. He couldn’t help the smile that crossed his face when his shock passed and wrapped his arms around her, resting his head against hers.

“You have turned everything upside down for me,” he murmured. She hummed, her mouth too full for her to reply. He pressed a kiss to the side of her head, content just to hold her until she was done. Once she was he waited long enough to examine her ankle and wrap it before taking her in his arms once more. He cloaked them so that no one would notice them unless he wanted them to—the last thing he needed was someone misunderstanding what they were seeing—then teleported straight into the alley he had first spotted her in. She told him where to go from there, taking them from the nicer business district to a definitely poorer side of the city.

She’d lived in what basically amounted to a hut, he discovered, a tiny little hovel she pointed out to him as they passed. They didn’t go inside. There was, apparently, nothing in there she needed.

They kept going, eventually making it to a busy street that led back into a better area of the city. A lot of street vendors had set up shop on this road, which appeared to also get a lot of foot traffic—including a little old woman with a very pale infant strapped to her back in a wicker basket. He didn’t have to be told it was Jack’s child.

The old woman gave Jack a toothless grin when they approached—and him a cool glance over. When she spoke it was with an accent that even he had trouble understanding. She didn’t directly address him, speaking instead to Jack—who clearly didn’t understand a word she was saying—but he got the gist of what she was trying to say.

She didn’t have to worry. He already knew how special Jack was, he had no doubt her child would be just as special.

The woman passed the baby over to Jack, who smiled and cooed at it—clearly in love with it despite how she had come into being. He felt a little awkward standing there, holding Jack as she held her child, so he stepped to the side and set Jack gently down on a small ledge. She didn’t even seem to notice, occupied as she was with kissing and loving on her baby.

“Would you like to hold her?”

The question blindsided him. Him? Holding a baby? But before he could figure out a way to say no she was handing her to him, settling the fragile little thing in the arms that were responsible for so much bloodshed and many, many broken things. The thing in his stomach returned.

“Here, like this.”

She rearranged his hold until the infant was somehow nestled comfortably in his grip, blinking up at him with dark eyes. He could see the obvious genetics of her… sperm donor… in her. She was pale, but with a hint of darker skin tone. Her eyes were dark. The downy, wispy hair growing on her head was black.

But he could also see Jack in her, in her tiny little nose and wide, wide gaze—a gaze that fixed itself on him and gripped him with something fierce.

“She’s beautiful.”

He was startled to realize he meant it. He had been prepared to accept her, this child of Jack’s. He hadn’t been prepared to love her.

Jack gave him a wide, glowing smile.

“Isn’t she?” she asked, leaning over to stroke her wispy hair. The baby blinked, shifting her gaze to her mother for a second before returning it to him.

“What’s her name?” he asked softly. Jack blushed.

“I, uh… I don’t know,” she confessed, “I’ve been trying to think of a good name, but…”

She trailed off, shrugging. He looked up at her.

“She wasn’t born in a hospital, was she?”

She shook her head. He closed his eyes, trying to keep a rein on his emotions. He would murder them all.

“I was so scared,” Jack whispered, pulling his gaze back to her, “I thought I was going to die. She heard me screaming and crying and helped me.”

She gestured at the old woman, who was unabashedly watching them. She, he decided, would be richly rewarded.

He couldn’t imagine the terror Jack must have felt, being all alone as she was giving birth to her child. She had no money, no way to provide for her child except through her body. She could not even crawl into a hospital and ask for help. She’d had no one but an old woman who hadn’t been obligated to help.

He looked back down at the child in his arms, the little girl whose life had started out in the lowest of lows, the little girl who would only know a life of prosperity and ease from here on out. He would make sure of it.

“Zhen’ai,” he said softly, “I will call you Zhen’ai.”

He paused, his eyes darting to Jack as he flushed.

“I-If you don’t mind,” he said, stumbling slightly over his words—and resigning himself to never being as cool and smooth as he had once been when it came to the woman standing next to him. She didn’t say anything, though, just tilted her head thoughtfully.

“Zhen’ai,” she repeated, speaking the name slowly in an attempt to pronounce it correctly. Then she smiled.

“I like it. What does it mean?”

He stepped closer to her, comfortable enough with his hold on Zhen’ai to take one hand away, grasping Jack’s hand tightly.

“It means she is my treasure,” he said, “A treasure that I cherish dearly.”

Red eyes widened, tears brimming and spilling over as he spoke.

“Oh Chase,” she gasped, but she couldn’t seem to say anything else. He knelt in front of her, leaning in close and brushing away her tears.

“Let’s go home,” he whispered. She nodded, throwing her arms around him. He teleported them away, back to his citadel, to the place that somehow seemed far more like a home than it had just that morning.

Jingyi welcomed them with a smile.

**Author's Note:**

> I know, I know, Chase is an emotional wreck again. Get used to it from me, because I really can't write him unemotional. He's an insecure little lizard dork and I love him that way.
> 
> Also, a sidenote about Jingyi: Jingyi was originally created as just Chase's kinda righthand man, like the top dog (cat) of his warriors. He's slowly gaining his own personality and backstory, as well as cementing himself as a father-figure to Chase in my head. Because heaven knows the boy needs one.
> 
> Anyway, I hope you liked this latest oneshot from me. Someday I'll finish the multichapter crossover fic I'm working on, but for now here's the oneshots I write whenever I get stuck. Please let me know what you thought!


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